


Buttercup

by cherryblur



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Gore, M/M, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-04 19:03:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17903765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryblur/pseuds/cherryblur
Summary: “When are you gonna slit my wrists open?”Josh blows smoke in his face.“Maybe later. Eat your peach slices.”





	Buttercup

**Author's Note:**

> don’t like don’t readd

It’s not toxic unless one of them says no. Josh doesn’t object. Tyler doesn’t object. 

So who’s to say it’s toxic? 

“Deeper,” Tyler’s guiding right now, legs sticky and spread on the worn leather couch they rest upon.  
“Can’t even feel you ‘n you’re almost a knuckle in.” 

Josh rests between his tacky thighs, back starting to ache from where it arched. He’s focusing too hard and sweat rolls off the bridge of his nose.  
It’s much too hot for this. 

The flies will come anytime soon, he thinks and curves his fingers deeper so his knuckles disappear. Tyler squirms a bit and mumbles. 

He’s open, gaping and sticky.  
His upper abdomen weeps at Josh through the finger sized holes he’s made. They get bigger and meld into one when his digits move in and out. 

“Bigger,” Tyler watches blood spurt from his wound. It’s pathetic, really. Much too small. Josh scissors his fingers and rips the flesh open until muscle fights against his push. 

Tyler trembles, mouth cocked in a smirk while his eyelashes flutter over glassy eyes that haven’t met sleep in weeks. He cups Josh’s cheek with a scarred hand. “Love you,” He mouths. 

Josh grunts and grabs the switchblade from his back pocket when he gets too impatient. 

It’s much easier this way, slicing open his stomach and letting the guts spill rather than painfully opening him up with his hands.  
He watches Tyler try to rut himself against anything because he’s whining now, cheeks red and lips swollen. He’s leaking slick onto the couch and it’s all so slippery.

Josh hears the flies starts to buzz in his ear when he dips his head down into his mess.  
Sometimes he gets that urge, that sudden urge to take something in his teeth and bite on it so hard the bones grind and crunch against each other. 

Now is that time, with Tyler’s large intestine dangling from his jaw.  
He releases it and laps the plasma from it instead. 

Tyler whimpers and his chest heaves, fingers tugging on pretty red locks that matched the color soaking Josh’s chin. He stretches his legs out and feels two blood-soaked fingers slip into him. 

The summer heat beats down on his face and he keens, stomach spilling rivulets over the edges and splattering onto the floor.  
Blood drips into a puddle and Josh just wants to eat Tyler whole. 

“Josh,” Tyler’s eyes roll back into his head. “Eat me, fuck, please eat me.”  
His thighs want to bow and shield himself because _that spot_ is getting poked and prodded at and Josh switches his hands and mouth for the moment. 

He wishes he could eat the flesh and guts distending out of his wound, but he has to save that for another time. 

Tyler’s breath feels like smoke it’s so humid, hips lifting off the sopping leather to allow Josh more room to fit his tongue. He spills more blood onto the hardwood below them and thinks about the cleanup afterwards. 

Josh rasps his tongue over slick and blood and sweat and feels Tyler shake above him until he’s clamped down, skin shiny and toes curling and _JoshJoshJosh-!_ Squeaking from his lips in that pitched voice he only gets from overstimulation. 

He can’t breathe and he pants when he’s sitting up, the thumping of the old fan next to them already drying the spit rolling down his lips. 

Flies buzz down onto Tyler’s open flesh, eager to lay eggs and make him their meal. Josh swats them away and kisses his ragged flesh. He smells like the peaches he ate for lunch two hours ago. 

“Stop starin’,” He scolds, delicate fingertips covering his eyes in embarrassment. He’s so open, so innocent and exposed Josh can’t help but smile. 

“You’re just s’pretty,” He murmurs and grabs for the sutures resting on their coffee table. He lights a cigarette and starts sewing Tyler up when the brunette looks up with those big doe eyes of his, lips sat out in a pout. 

“Just pretty?” He bats his eyelashes and Josh melts. 

He leans down and kisses him slow, just long enough for him to taste it all.  
Blood, slick, smoke.  
“Beautiful.”  
He sticks his cigarette back between his lips and his free hand runs up and down Tyler’s thigh softly.

The heat purrs around them and they breathe slow. Tyler sneezes on dust and his guts jostle. He laughs. 

His blood is congealing around him, gluing him to the couch but he doesn’t care because he’s got his one and only above him with a cig dangling from his mouth and HIS blood on his chest. 

Some of the ashes fall onto his skin and add more burns to the rest lining his jutting hip bones. 

“Love ya,” Josh rumbles and cuts the extra lines off the new stitches he’s made over the dozens of scars below.

Tyler covers his blush again and tells him he’s got blood dried on his chin. 

“You forgot again,” He adds. “You promised.” 

Josh sits back and pops the button on his stained blue jeans.  
“Maybe later. You never finished your peach.”

**Author's Note:**

> comment :)))


End file.
